


Necessary

by shadowsamurai



Category: The Hunted (2003)
Genre: Epilogue, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Post Film, Subtext, early romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 02:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set as an epilogue to the film The Hunted (Tommy Lee Jones & Benecio del Toro).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Necessary

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this may be OCC, I don't know. Just something that came to me and wouldn't go away (been hanging around my computer for at least a year). There seems to be a good chemistry between Tommy Lee Jones and Connie Nielsen, so I just went with it.

L.T. stands watching the wolf as he treks through the thick snow, apparently healed from his wound, unaware or uncaring of the man close by, who in turn is unperturbed by the cold. In fact, he takes comfort in it. In some obscure way, it warms him, touches and calms his soul, something which is sorely needed after the events of Oregon. He can still smell and taste the blood, both his and Hallam's. He can still see the look in the other man's eyes as he dies. Now, more than ever, L.T. is glad he lives alone, and so far from any neighbours. At least no one can hear him shout himself awake in the middle of the night, disturbed and plagued by all-too-real nightmares; at least no one can see him cry.

His thoughts turn once more to Hallam and the letters he wrote but which L.T. didn't receive until after his death. He doesn't want to consider why the letters never reached him; if Ted could find him out in the middle of nowhere without much difficulty, L.T.'s pretty certain his mail would reach him. But he doesn't dwell on the matter, because if he does, the same burning questions always fills his mind: would he have helped Hallam if he had have known the trouble he was experiencing? _Could_ he have helped him? Could he have saved the lives of all the people who had died? And none of the answers he has come up with have given him any satisfaction. He thinks of the expression on Ted's face when he hands L.T. the bundle of envelopes wordlessly just before he heads to the airport for the second, and hopefully last time. This land is where he belongs; this is where he feels safe, and after everything that has happened, L.T. finds himself in need of some security, a thought which startles him and brings home his own fragile mortality, something he never really thought about before.

He stands there long after the wolf has gone, long after the fire inside has burnt down to nothing more than embers, and L.T. feels that reflects the state of his soul quite well. His wounds have healed quite well...at least the external ones have. The internal ones, the ones marking his character, will take quite a bit longer, he thinks. Now he understands how Hallam went off, how much stress the other young men he trained were under. He understands it and finds he is ashamed of being the one to teach them to do what they did. But feelings of guilt and shame will not change anything, and he is too old for regrets, though like most people, he has them. And surprisingly, to him, one of his latest and biggest ones involves Abby. He knew he had surprised himself and her by offering for her to come up to his cabin; even more surprising was that he had genuinely meant it. There was something about her, something he felt the first time he saw her.... L.T. drifts, only for a moment, before remembering what had happened afterwards. Hallam. Death. And when he had left Oregon properly, Abby hadn't spoken to him. Hadn't come to say good bye, good luck, nothing. Not that he was surprised. He could understand completely how she felt, having lost a good friend and her boss. And her instinct had been to kill the man responsible. Whether she knew it or not, L.T. had saved her life by doing what he did. But from the last expression he saw on her face as he wept over Hallam's lifeless body, he doubted she saw it that way.

The snow starts to fall more heavily, and L.T. thinks it's time he went back inside before he freezes to the spot. He remembers the fire and turns to pick up some logs, carefully knocking the snow off each one. Just before he re-enters his cabin, he turns back to the direction the wolf headed off into, some well honed instinct making him look. At first he thinks it's just an illusion, a trick of the light, the falling snow, and the tall trees. But then he realises there is actually a person heading towards him. Conflicting emotions war in him; the last time someone had come to his cabin, people had died and L.T. had lost part of himself he would never get back. But he doubts this is Ted; wrong build, wrong walk. In fact, unless he's very much mistaken, this is someone else entirely, someone he was certain he would never see or hear from again.

Her cheeks are rosy from the cold, her breath unfurling in waves of mist in front of her face, her hair poking out from under a thick hood, as she comes to a stop in front of him. But not too close. She's here for a reason, come a long way to do something very difficult, and she's well aware that she might be walking all the walk back very shortly. Plus the man in front of her was not someone who was accustomed to having his personal space invaded in any way at all. Abby holds L.T.'s gaze, his wary and closed off, hers halfway between defiant and apologetic. She thinks he's going to turn her away, say no before she's even had a chance to speak, but then he picks up a couple more pieces of wood and turns to the door.

“Drink?” he asks, turning back to her. It's the only form of invitation into his home she's likely to get from him. “Think I might have some anti-freeze somewhere.”

It's a poor joke but it's the effort that counts and she smiles back. “Sounds great.” She points to the pile. “Need any more?”

“You can get it next time,” he replies. “Kick your boots before you come in. Might want to shake your coat as well.”

She does as she's told, then stands behind the closed door holding the garment, suddenly very nervous and awkward. She has a reason for being there, but part of her wonders if it's the right reason, or the whole reason for her making the trip all the way from Portland to middle of nowhere in British Columbia.

L.T. feeds the fire and takes his own jacket it off, slinging it across the back of his chair. He stands with his back to Abby for a while, warming his hands, lost in thought, forgetting he wasn't on his own any more. With a somewhat jerky, startled movement, he turns to her, even though she hasn't made a sound. For some reason, the sight of her makes his breath catches in his throat. She looks...vulnerable. He's not sure he likes it. Deciding to take pity on her, he walks over to her, one hand outstretched.

“Here. I'll hang it by the fire, let it dry out.” He points to his rocking chair. “You can sit there, if you like.”

“Thanks.”

L.T. busies himself making them both a drink, aware Abby is scrutinising his cabin as is both her nature and her job. He wonders what she makes of it, what she makes of him, what she's actually doing there. He wants to ask, wants answers to all of his questions and none of them. But the silence is anything but comfortable and he can't stand it.

“So, is this a social call or something else?” he asks, deliberately not looking at her.

“Purely social,” Abby replies, surprising him. “I had some leave coming, and with everything that happened with Hallam, I thought I'd take it. I remember the invitation you made me and thought, 'What the hell.' So, here I am.”

L.T. turns to her, arms folded. “What makes you think the invitation is still open?”

“You haven't thrown me out yet,” Abby replies, holding his gaze.

“Storm's coming. I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy.”

This conversation is not going the way she planned or wants. They seem to be good at rubbing each other up the wrong way, but she also knows he can make her smile. That she actually feels comfortable around him, did the first time she spoke to him, which is unusual for her. So she takes a deep breath, forces herself not to answer back, to be humble because she wants to. Because she means it. Because she has something important to tell him and she isn't leaving until she's had her say.

“Look, Bonham, I didn't come all this way to fight with you.” Abby takes another deep breath. “I came here to apologise. With Hallam...I know you were just trying to protect us, and I took the whole thing personally. I lost good agents, one was a friend, the other my boss. It's difficult. And to be honest, I didn't think you had it in you to kill him. To be honest.... To tell you the truth, Bonham, I didn't want you to have to go through that. I'd rather have killed him myself than put you in a situation where you had to do it. Sure, you taught people how to take lives, but doing it yourself is something else entirely.” She looks at him properly, deeply, and he feels very naked in front of her. “It changes you, it has to. So that's why I'm here. To say I'm sorry for being so hard on you...and to see how you were doing.”

“You came all this way to check I was alright?” L.T. asks, clearly amused. “I'm touched.” He hands her a mug, a smile on his face to rob his words of an insult, and as she takes the drink, their fingers touch. “I didn't think I'd see you again.”

His words surprise him as much as her, but her answer surprises them both as well. “I didn't think I wanted to see you again. I don't know, I guess in a way I blamed you for killing Hallam as well...I'll admit I wanted that kill for myself.”

L.T. sits near her and Abby finds his presence so close to her isn't as invasive as she thought it might be. “You know, most conversations are supposed to start with things like 'hi, how are you? Nice weather we're having.' You know, shit like that.”

She grins at him. “That's boring.”

“Yeah, I know. I was just saying.” L.T. looks at her for what seems to be a long time. “You don't have to apologise, but thank you anyway. I understand why you did what you did, acted the way you did, said what you did. But I did what I had to do.” He sighs. “He would have killed you, Abby. I couldn't let him do that.”

Suddenly it's all too much, the nightmarish visions appearing without warning, and L.T. covers his face with his hands. Abby stares for a moment before putting her mug to one side and reaching for him. She can see the scars on his hands where Hallam cut him, and wonders how the others are healing up. She covers his hands with hers, her palms soothing the scars, her fingers touching his face. It surprises her how much she wants to help him, hold him, comfort him. The first time she saw him, she felt a spark of...something, and it shocked her. He was nothing like the type of man she usually found attractive, when she actually had the time to go dating, of course. But she sensed he was solid and reliable, a man to be counted on, and she appreciates that more than good looks. Not that he's ugly by any stretch of the imagination, just a little too much Grizzly Adams for her liking. Normally.

“I'm not going to tell you it'll get better, Bonham,” she says quietly. “And I'm not going to say you did the right thing. You did what had to be done, you just said so yourself. That's it. Just chalk it up to experience and move on.” On impulse, she runs her fingers lightly through his hair, glad when he doesn't move away, and pleased when he seems to relax a little. “You have a special place here. Remember that's how you described it to me? And you're right, it is. Let it do it's work, let this place help to heal you.” She doesn't normally talk like this, yet she's surprised how easily the words flow from her. Then she says the hardest thing she's said so far; by comparison, the apology was easy. “Let me help you.”

L.T. looks up at her words, surprised by how close Abby's face is to his. “Did you bring your gun?” he asks, more for something to say than any real interest, and more because he has never been all that good at talking to women. Experienced in teaching hard men how to fight and disappear, when talking to the fairer sex he always found himself shy and tongue-tied.

She tilts her head a little as if thinking. “No, I didn't. Thought it would help my posture.” She pulls his hands clear away from his face and holds them in hers. “You know, every time I close my eyes, all I can see is you with Hallam's body. The look on your face is haunting me, Bonham. I hate it.”

“My face or the fact I'm haunting you?” he asks.

“Do you think about that day a lot?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have nightmares?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Abby nods in understanding. “But maybe in time?”

“Maybe,” L.T. concedes. 

“You can't shut it away for ever, Bonham. Believe me.”

“Call me L.T.” He says it in an off-handed way but it's a big thing for him. “So, where are you staying?” he asks, pulling his hands gently away.

Abby understands it isn't a dismissal and it he isn't pushing her away, he's just not comfortable with so much emotion and really, neither is she. “Don't suppose you have a spare room?” she replies.

He shakes his head. “You can have my bed. I'm good in the chair.”

She's about the object on principle, then remembers what this man's job was, how he had said not long after first meeting her that if he wasn't back in two days, it would mean he was dead. Bobby thought he was joking; Abby had known he was not. And she was certain he could survive in almost any situation, so a night in the rocking chair wasn't going to kill him.

“Okay. Thanks,” she says, much to his surprise.

“No arguments?”

“You want me to argue?”

“No, it's just....” He shakes his head. “Never mind.” He then smiles somewhat shyly. “Never was too good at this sort of thing.”

Abby's smile is warm and encouraging. “You're doing just fine,” she assures him.

They talk a little while longer about other things, but once they've eaten, he notices she's starting to fade. He shows her the bathroom and the bedroom, and then bids her good night. He knows he isn't going to sleep well, knows that as comfy as the chair might by, he's never had another person staying in his cabin with him. If it had been just any old someone, it might not have been too bad, but it isn't, it's a woman and one he finds attractive too. Building the fire up again, L.T. tucks a blanket around him and closes his eyes, letting the howling wind outside be his lullaby.

The next morning arrives swiftly, and he finds he's surprised. Trying to as quiet as possible, he stokes the fire and makes a pot of strong coffee. If his instincts are right, and they usually are, Abby is going to need it. Abby herself does indeed have coffee in mind, and though she hears L.T. moving about, smells the brew being made, she doesn't want to get up just yet. It isn't that's she's comfy as such, she's just processing everything. The bedroom, like the rest of the cabin, is very minimalistic, yet very L.T. And yet she doesn't feel uncomfortable; in felt, she slept like the proverbial log last night, something very unusual for her. No matter how far she's travelled or how tired she is, she never sleeps well in a strange place, probably because she's always listening for things. But here she feels safe, she feels relaxed...and it's unnerving.

But finally the lure of coffee, and hopefully good, and definitely the bathroom, force her to move, and after pulling on her clothes, she shuffles out into the living room. “Morning.”

L.T. smiles slightly at her. “Morning. How do you like your coffee?”

“Black, two sugars, please.”

“Breakfast?”

She nods. “I'm starving.”

As they eat, he considers her, watching the controlled way she moves no matter what she's doing. “So how long were you planning on staying?” he asks, trying to phrase the question mildly.

“Not sure. Hadn't really got past just getting here.”

He nods. “You want to give it a few days, see how it goes?”

“Can do. What's the weather forecast?”

“We might get some snow,” he replies straight-faced. “When do you have to go back?”

Abby puts her fork down and wraps her hands around her mug. “I don't know. Whenever I feel like it, I guess.” As L.T.'s eyebrows work their way up into his hairline, she sighs. “Ted suggested I go on extended leave, on top of what I already had to take. So a few weeks, a few months...as long as I need until I'm ready to go back.”

“And you want to spend all that time here?” he asks incredulously.

“I can think of worse places,” she replies.

L.T. can think of worse compliments and worse company. “You fancy a walk in a little while?”

“Where to?”

He shrugs. “Around. I can teach you how to track.”

Abby considers him for a moment, and notices how dark his eyes really are. “Alright,” she replies.

It's an interesting day, to say the least. She learns so much about the land and nature surrounding L.T.'s cabin, about the flora and fauna of the Canadian wilderness, and about the man teaching her all of these things. Despite his job as a contractor to the army, he was actually a fairly gentle soul, though that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous, as she had already seen. And then when he told her about the snare on the wolf, and what happened to the guy who owned it, she actually smiles. She's not worried; there's more chance of her hurting him than the other way around. Before she knows it, they're back at the cabin for lunch, and L.T. stokes the fire. After some food, she helps him collect firewood, then watches as he chops a few more logs with easy, practised swings. By sundown, she feels like she's run a marathon.

“How come you're not married?” he asks in the early evening as they're both sat quietly by the fire.

Abby looks sideways at him. “How do you know I'm not?”

“Instinct.”

“Married to my job, I suppose.”

“The kid's drawing on your desk?”

Abby smiled. “My niece. She's four. We're pretty close, me and my brother.”

“What did he think of you coming up here?” L.T. asks because it's safe to assume they talked about it.

“He was all for it. Said it would be good for me.” There was more she could have said but didn't. It would have been too much too soon. “What about you? Do you have family left?”

L.T. shakes his head. “No.”

“And you never married.”

It isn't a question but he answers it anyway. “No.”

“Do you think you could ever give all this up for someone? Move back to the city?”

“Do you think you could ever give the city up for someone? Move somewhere like this?” he counters.

Her gaze is direct, piercing, bright. “Maybe. It would depend on the person.”

L.T. isn't any good at this at all. He's an excellent tracker, but when it comes to reading the signs from women, he might as well be blind. But he knows she needs some sort of answer for him and he knows honesty will carry him a long way with this woman. She might not always like what he says, he's seen that already, but she'll respect him more for it in the end.

“I could never go back to the city permanently,” he admits. “A visit, I can handle. But long term?” He shakes his head. “I couldn't do it, not for anyone. I'm sorry.”

But Abby just nods. From what she read of his file, from what Ted told her, and what she has seen of the man himself, she isn't surprised at all. In fact, if she were in his shoes, she'd have given the same answer. And she does respect him more for his honesty. And the funny thing is, she doesn't take his answer as a negative.

“A visit would be better than nothing,” she says, aware she's being bold but it's her nature, and besides, she thinks he can handle it.

L.T. stares for a while, then a shy smile spreads across his face. “I'm sure we could work something out, if that's what you want.” He's surprised his voice is so steady; he feels like he's shaking more than a single leaf on a tree in the middle of the blizzard.

“What about you?” Abby has to ask. She needs to know.

“I'm happy that you're here,” he tells her.

They talk a while longer, about anything and everything except how they feel, but it's comfortable. Eventually Abby yawns and stretches and announces that if she doesn't move, she'll fall asleep on the spot. L.T. thinks there could be worse things to do than carry her to bed. Instead, he bids her a good sleep and builds the fire up so he can stare thoughtfully into it.

At some point he must have fallen asleep, and when a sound pushes its way through his sleep-hazed mind, he wonders for a moment where he is and who could be making such an awful noise. Then he realises it's him, and he's screaming. And then he realises he isn't alone. Gentle hands are soothing against his face, his arms, his back, Abby's voice reassuring him everything's fine, he's not alone, he did the right thing, it'll get better in time...all the things she said she'd never tell, him all the things he needed to hear, whether they were true or not. And he doesn't bother about how he looks, he allows himself to be weak and held by this woman he barely knows. Because it feels right. He grips her shoulders, tightly enough so she knows how much he needs her, but not so tightly as to hurt he, which he could easily do. His sobs rack his entire body, and he can feel every scar that Hallam gave him, burning with guilt and regret. He's sure he's making some noises, trying to speak, but whether it's coherent or not is another matter.

For Abby, it's difficult. A part of her is glad this has happened, she knew it was what L.T. needed, but it does break her heart to see him like this. She knows how she felt after shooting someone; what L.T. had to do was at least twice as harder and definitely more damaging to the soul. But at least he isn't alone...not any more. She can't explain it, doesn't really want to even try. She just knows it feels right being around him, however things progress. Maybe they won't see each other for months at a time, it doesn't matter. And she's sure she tells him that at some point, but she isn't entirely sure what she's saying either. She just knows she's talking, hoping that somehow her voice is helping him. And it seems to. After a while he calms down, his grip relaxes, and she is able to move a little.

“Want to talk about it?” Abby asks quietly.

L.T. looks at her, his eyes like two dark pools that he's drowning in and so will she if she lets herself, and shakes his head. “No,” he replies, slowly and quietly.

She lifts her hands and places her palms against his cheeks, smiling ever so slightly when he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he releases it, she can feel more tension leaving his body, can feel him leaning on her, and she likes it. Likes to know he needs her, but is happy to know if she ever needs to lean on him, he'll let her. He'll take care of her, just like she's taking care of him.

After a while, Abby leans back and lets her hands drop to his. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” L.T. asks, lacing his fingers with hers.

“Bed.”

“What?!” His exclamation is pitched a little higher than he intended but it's far too late to try and change that now.

She actually laughs. “Don't worry, you're safe with me,” she replies, smiling. “But if you're going to have nightmares, it's a lot easier if you're in there.” She nods to the bedroom. “Because I don't want to have to keep getting up to check on you.”

Several mildly sarcastic retorts hover on his lips, but he doesn't utter any of them. Instead he contents himself with the knowledge that this woman will never cease to amaze or surprise him, and he's grateful for that. But he also knows the reverse is true, and knowing she's expecting some sort of argument or discussion, he just shrugs instead and says, “Okay.”

FIN


End file.
